Moving In
by Ryo-girl
Summary: House and Chase get together. How long does it take for everyone else to notice? Slash
1. House

Title: Moving In

Author: ryogirl

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, and if I was making any money, I'd just go out and buy the House DVDs, so I don't think the owners would sue me because they're getting the money anyway, right?

Summary: House hates letting people in, so he isn't too thrilled with the thought of Chase invading his apartment.

A/N: This is my first fic, so please be gentle!! I love this pairing a lot, and this is for everyone who's been feeding my obsession lately. Also, thanks to everyone who helped me fill House's fridge and cabinets!

* * *

The way Chase slid into his life, it was like he's always been there. He hated living with someone—even just letting someone stay with him—because when they moved in, so did their things, and House's home was a like a sanctuary; allowing someone to move their things in was like letting them move a little bit of themselves inside him, and the first time hadn't gone well. (It was going okay with Wilson, and he was the only one House would ever let sleep in his home without something NC-17 going on.)

When he and Stacey had gotten together, it was like two huge forces of nature slamming together. The bathroom became invaded, the sink crowded with hair spray, perfumes, even a new type of toothpaste, and the cabinets suddenly full of medicine, feminine products, and extra razor blades. They had never truly meshed in that respect; he'd put his cologne in one place only to return the next day and find that it had been replaced with a hairbrush or a cream. It was like a never-ending fight for supremacy that, although it was taking place throughout their entire relationship, centered in the bathroom.

When Chase moved in, the only things that were added were a new type of hair gel that wasn't as girly as he'd assumed and a new toothbrush. Chase used his toothpaste and type of soap, and didn't complain that the shower's water pressure was too high, even though House had turned it up a little on purpose just to see if he would.

The kitchen was more affected than anything else; Chase had said that he used to spend his free afternoons at home while he lived in Australia, and that the only people who had been there was the cook his father had, who was severe-looking and stricter than the nuns at his seminary school but was damn good at her job and willing to teach him. So, he had learned how to cook, and had brought new utensils with him. House had frowned as he'd watched Chase fill cabinets with "cooking devices" he'd never even _seen_ before and pondered whether or not Chase was kinkier than he'd originally thought.

He'd been a little worried, because he enjoyed his fast food too much to switch to healthy eating every day, but when he'd warned Chase that he wasn't going to be doing any cooking, Chase had simply rolled his eyes and said that Chase wasn't going to be cooking all the time because his boss was a "first rate bastard who worked him to the bone for no apparent reason except that he was prettier" so House would just have to settle for pizza on weekdays. Pizza with those horrible little green peppers that House would later pick off and then, when Chase wasn't looking, stack on top of the last piece and eat.

Chase made meals that tasted pretty good, and the best thing was, as long as House didn't ask what was in them, he could even pretend they weren't healthy and thus he had no reason to complain. They usually ate on the couch, watching TV, although sometimes Chase sat in front of him, careful of his leg, and every once in awhile he'd wrap an arm around House's good leg, which made House pause in his chewing and then relax again, refusing to acknowledge it except for the occasional 'shift' that let his fingers brush the back of Chase's neck.

But it wasn't just the cooking, either. It was coming home to a full refrigerator, not just full of health things but his own favorites, beer and chips and even Ruben sandwiches that were supposed to be for lunch but he always ate the moment he caught sight of them. Before, he'd go and look to see if there was anything he wanted, and if there wasn't, he'd have to settle for leftovers or maybe even frosting from cans because, when he got home, his leg was usually hurting so bad he couldn't muster up the energy to go and get something. House was always a little shocked at the thrill of happiness that went through him when he saw that there were Cheetohs in the cabinet when he knew he'd eaten the last of them the night before. (Eaten them and, when Chase was sleeping, rolled them into his hair like curlers.)

The only thing he'd worried about after the first few weeks was Wilson. Wilson was as much a fixture in his apartment as the couch or his stashes of Vicodin (letting Chase know where his Vicodin was hidden was a big deal), and there would be no change to that.

Stacey had known how important Wilson was to him, but he could see in her, at the back of her mind, a swelling resentment. She didn't like how he laughed with Wilson, teased him, even touched him sometimes. She wasn't dumb enough to say anything, but House could see it. And it had become like a sore tooth toward the end of the relationship; he'd brought Wilson over just to annoy her, or go out to lunch with him instead of her, and she had just gotten angrier and angrier.

Chase knew how important Wilson was, too. And there had been a little awkwardness in the beginning, the two most important people in his life learning how to relate to each other not just as colleagues anymore, but as two people who shared a common friendship with House. But they'd gotten it pretty quickly; Chase would periodically wash the extra bedding that only Wilson used and he kept buttermilk pancake mix handy for when Wilson stayed over on the weekends and House demanded his friend's pancakes. (He even let Wilson bring over groceries, which was a little odd, until House realized it was just so that when Wilson stayed over he had things he liked to eat, too.) And Wilson would often sneak Australian beer into House's place, despite House's insistence that no foreign swill was allowed into his house, or bring a little extra money at lunch to pay for Chase's when the blonde was too busy scowling at House over making Wilson pay at _all_.

(If House thought about it, he probably would have realized that they were sharing the 'taking care of House duties,' with Wilson taking over more at work and Chase taking over more at home. But it was working, and pretty damn well too, so House didn't think about it; he just sat back and let them, reaping the benefits and batches of pancakes.)

But the biggest surprise was their sleeping arrangements. Chase was very good at staying still while asleep, so there weren't any incidents of waking up with extra weight on his bad leg, but he wasn't worried so much about that.

After the infarction had first happened, he had spent a few nights on the couch, watching TV, taking his pain meds, and drinking beer to numb the pain. It would work, inevitably, but Stacey would always shake him awake, bringing that horrible, never-ending pain back to forefront, and force him into their bed, scowling angrily like he had done something wrong by not being there with her. He knew she thought she was helping, but it just gave him another thing to hate her a little for.

Chase seemed to understand a little better; he knew that, especially now, House spent every available moment in bed with him, and that, if he didn't come in and instead chose to stay on the couch, the pain was too much and House just wanted to go to sleep, away from everyone, while he dealt with the pain.

The first time it had happened, Chase had done nothing, said nothing. The second time, he'd woken up the next morning with the TV off, a Vicodin already out on the table, and breakfast early.

The third time, he'd come awake on the couch to the feel of someone lifting his head, sliding a pillow under, and a light blanket thrown across him carefully. His mind was still fuzzy enough that the pain was distant, and he slipped back to sleep with the feel of a hand running through his hair. Chase even left the TV on.

Yes, Chase had slipped into his life like he could see all the spaces where House needed someone and all the places he didn't, and he had seamlessly, silently, oozed into all the dark, aching cracks, filling them up, just a little, making him a little more whole.

And, in the process, he'd done what Stacey had never managed to do, even with all her trying, all her effort; he'd slipped right into his soul.


	2. Wilson

Title: Wilson's POV

Author: ryogirl

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Really wished I did. And like I said before, if I did make money off of it, that money would be going towards the _House _Season 2 DVD, so I don't think FOX should be complaining.

* * *

Wilson had always assumed it would be Cameron he found curled up asleep in House's bed one morning. But it wasn't. It was Chase.

Now, if he had been anyone but James Wilson, and if he'd been staying at anyone but Greg House's place, there would have been a little freaking, what with the sudden display of naked homosexuality taking place right in front of his eyes, but, as he _was_ James Wilson staying at Greg House's place, he simply said "Mm" and continued on the way to the bathroom.

If his and House's friendship was normal, House probably would have told him. House was very blunt, of course, but he was good at deciding what words would make the most impact and the worst moment.

Apparently, House had decided that the best way for Wilson to find out was to see Chase asleep in his bed, naked. (Well, Wilson could tell he was naked, but all he could see was the very top of Chase's ass. Very PG, considering that he'd once walked in on House and some girl right in the middle, and while _Wilson_ was mortified, House had smirked and the girl had rolled her eyes and wriggled a little to get things moving again.)

Still, as he walked into the kitchen to make pancakes, he had to say something.

"Chase, huh?"

House wasn't fully awake yet, but he still managed a smirk. "Well, he's the prettiest."

Wilson couldn't argue with that.

At first, he'd wondered how long it was going to last. House didn't have a very good track record, mostly because people didn't know how to read House as well as he did. Wilson had learned long ago that what was important with House were his actions, not his words. Wilson buying him lunch was one of these things; it was a way of allowing someone else to care about him, just a little. And the plus was that everyone else thought of it as mooching. House's actions concerning Chase were just like that: House ate the food Chase cooked because "he had to eat, and if someone else did the work, why shouldn't he eat it?" despite the fact that for him eating food someone else provided was another way of letting them in.

House bought Chase all sorts of candy "because it gave him lots of energy," (this was said with the familiar smirk and wicked blue eyes, and Wilson had struggled to hold back a sigh and not bang his head on the desk). But half the time all he was doing was buying a bag because one type of candy was running low and he didn't want Chase to run out. (Wilson had pointed out that he didn't have to keep six different dishes full; Chase would get the same sugar rush from any kind of candy. House had scowled at him and hit him across the shins with his cane).

The real reason House bought Chase candy was because Chase had a wicked sweet tooth. Wilson found out the hard way. He'd gone to sleep on the couch and woken up with melted M&Ms on his calf because he'd stuffed it into the cushion and melted them all. Chase had apologized and House made him clean the couch, but Wilson noticed that a small bowl of the candy appeared the next day and never seemed to empty despite the fact that Chase munched on them frequently, making obscene noises and licking his fingers clean after.

It wasn't just the M&Ms, either; he found all sorts of candies hidden _everywhere_, in dozens of different places. It seemed Chase's sweet tooth turned him from a wombat into a squirrel, because once he hid the candy it would sit for awhile before, somehow, he remembered exactly where every stash was.

After the M&M incident, there was no awkwardness between himself, House and Chase. In fact, House had apparently recounted the incident to the entire hospital. How could there be any uncomfortable silences when he had seen Chase partially naked and Chase had seen him with melted chocolate up to his knee?

Chase even did things he sometimes wished House would do; the bedding he slept with got washed frequently, the cupboards usually had his pancake mix, and half the time he'd come to the apartment with an extra place already set and good food waiting. It had been like a burden lifted, Chase's acceptance of Wilson into his and House's life together, because although he knew House had always chosen him over past relationships, he had never seen House look at anyone the way House looked at Chase.

Not even Stacy.

So, lying on the couch one night, after they'd all gone to bed—he always kept the TV volume up rather high for at least an hour every night—he smothered a smile in his pillow.

He couldn't wait until Cameron and Cuddy found out. All hell was going to break loose, and he was going to have a front row seat.


	3. Cameron

Title: Cameron (Moving In)

* * *

She didn't actually _see_ them doing anything together. There were no grope-a-thons in hidden storage rooms, making out in House's office chair, or even a quick kiss to the cheek when they came into the hospital.

In fact, if she wasn't so used to watching _everything_ House did, she wouldn't have noticed anything at all.

But she _did _watch House, anytime she could. She refused to think of it too much; she could only take so many cutting remarks a day from House, and she didn't need to deal with them coming from her subconscious as well.

The first time she saw something, it could have been platonic: House leaning over Chase, helping Chase with one of his many crossword puzzles. What made it odd was House bracing himself on the back of the blonde's chair and how close he was leaning. House was very fond of his personal space; he hated having anyone too close unless _he _allowed them, and for him to put _himself _close to someone else was odd.

She just shrugged it off, assuming that he'd found a new way to torment the poor Australian and had gone off to run the tests he'd ordered. (Her brain chimed in that House had sent _her _even though _she _had been answering the department's mail and Chase was just doing his dumb puzzles, but denial was an art form to some, so she ignored it and continued on).

Then, she noticed the never-ending supply of pens. She'd assumed that Chase brought his own pens to work because of his "oral fixation." You could always tell Chase's pens from others, and everyone in the department—and even Wilson and Cuddy—had learned to glance before picking pens up, to ensure they didn't pick up Chase's teeth-marked ones. (Foreman had picked one up and used it for ten minutes, fingering the germy side, before Chase had wandered in, confused, and asked "Where's my pen?" Foreman had gone out the next night and bought a completely different brand of pens that were even different colors).

But one morning, she'd hurried in early. She was actually the first one there, which was becoming more common; Chase was coming in later lately, but she didn't ask why.

Foreman and then Chase had come in, and they'd gone about their day as usual; then, House walked in with his bag, looking a little tired but pleased as well, and she felt the surge of jealousy in her: House had slept with somebody. Somebody with obvious talent, more talent than herself, for whoever it was had managed to get him into their bed in the first place, something she'd been trying to do since she'd started working there.

While the others mumbled their hellos, she watched House go into his office and then come out, ready to start on their first case in awhile. Their little brainstorming sessions were one of her favorite parts of the day; it was really her only chance to impress him (and if House was a little less condescending to Chase, she pretended not to notice).

But, when she glanced back on the way out to go and talk to the patient, she noticed him slipping his hand into his pocket. She assumed he was going for the Vicodin, but when he came out with a handful of pens, she paused long enough to trip herself up slightly. By the time she turned back, the pens were safely in a little cup Chase always left his pens in, and House was back in his office.

That whole day, she was quiet and sullen. What had Chase done to earn a _present _from House? Were the pens _only _for Chase, or could anyone use them? Only Chase used pens out of that cup, because he tended to put the chewed ones back into it. Maybe House enjoyed making fun of Chase for it so much he made sure to keep Chase in pens?

Because she couldn't figure it out, she put it in the back of her mind and continued on with her life.

The next time she noticed something was at lunchtime. She, Foreman and Chase were all eating, but her eyes kept straying to House and Wilson. Usually, Wilson bought them both lunch, but she'd seen House bringing something in every once in awhile, and she wanted to know what it was that maybe she could bring some in.

House _never _brought lunch to work. Ever. It was like one of the absolute _musts_ of the day, besides ogling Cuddy's breasts and taking his Vicodin pills, was making Wilson pay for his lunch. So when House started eating a homemade sandwich, she narrowed her eyes slightly and turned to the others to comment.

Until she saw that Chase was already halfway through an identical sandwich. The words died in her throat.

Unless House was blackmailing Chase into bringing him lunches—and it might be something he would do—then something serious was going on. Very serious.

Like, _living together _serious. Sure, people who were just together had lunch together, but only people who _lived together _had the same lunches.

In other words, Chase had made himself and his _boyfriend _lunch so they would have something to eat for the day.

There was no going around that one. No denying it. She couldn't pretend it was all a game to torment Chase. And what was worse, she couldn't say anything, because they hadn't told her! House would look at her with those too-blue eyes, smirking because he _knew _how she had figured it out, knew that she watched him all the time, and she couldn't take that humiliation.

The worst part was, she blamed Chase for taking House away from her, even though she'd never had him in the first place. She couldn't even delude herself into thinking she hated him because House treated him better than anyone else, because he didn't. Chase's suggestions were still shot down, his results relentlessly mocked. (But maybe there was a new type of pride in his eyes when Chase figured things out, when he got things right?)

No, Cameron couldn't take it. She couldn't take losing someone she had deemed "hers" to save to someone else.

And she _definitely _couldn't stand the fact that Chase had managed to do everything she had tried to do _without _resorting to blackmail.

_

* * *

__Someone pointed out to me that having a warning about Cameron in the beginning kind of made them pre-judge the story. That wasn't my intention; I just wanted to warn people that I do not like Cameron, and I didn't want to upset anyone who read this chapter. _

_I decided to take their advice and move it, but if I do get emails saying that someone would like a warning, it will go back up. _

_So, here it is again: I do not like Cameron._

_I would also like to say that this is very hard, because I definitely feel like I have Chase and House pretty good in my head, but I'm not so sure about the others. I did Cameron in the middle because I knew if I left her to the end I wouldn't do her at all, but now maybe I'll be freer to do Foreman and Cuddy._

_Oh, well. At least it's coming. Thanks again for all the wonderful reviews!!_


	4. Foreman

_Foreman_

It was because of Cameron that Foreman found out at all.

He hadn't noticed anything odd, but apparently Cameron had, because, sitting in the lunch room going over a batch of neurological tests he'd ordered, she'd asked, "Do you think something's going on with House and Chase?"

Foreman glanced over at the table House and Chase were at and watched them for a moment – House and Wilson were talking, and Chase seemed to be ignoring them both – and then looked back at Cameron.

"What are you talking about? I don't see anything."

"But _I_ have," Cameron said. "House is – like, buying Chase pens, and Chase is bringing them both lunch from home, and…" Cameron broke off and flushed, as if embarrassed to admit that she'd been watching so much. "Look, they're just acting weird, okay?"

"So why don't you just ask them?" Foreman demanded, rolling his eyes and going back to his tests. Cameron huffed and went back to watching them, her food untouched in front of her.

He didn't even think about it again until the next morning, when Chase sat down at the table across from him and started filling out his crossword puzzle with a brand new pen.

House and Chase? Foreman wouldn't put it past Chase to try and suck up to his boss so much that he'd _actually _end up sucking up to his boss – and wasn't that a disgusting thought? – but the thing was, Chase didn't seem to be _getting_ anything out of it. House was still an ass to him, still ordered him around, still treated him like a flunky.

So, what, did Chase _like_ it so much that he wanted to get it at home as well as work? It just didn't add up.

But he wasn't going to just wade in and ask until he had some proof. So, he watched instead, looking for whatever Cameron was seeing that he was missing.

He saw the pen thing first: brand new pens bought and slipped into the cup. A new stash of candy that House didn't eat and Cameron didn't buy. Lunches, _healthy_ lunches, brought out from Chase's bag before they broke for lunch.

In the end, it was the lack of personal space that nagged at him more. House liked to be in control at all times, and that included controlling how close a person could get to him at any given moment. If you got too close to him he'd bite your head off, but if he crowded into _your_ space you weren't allowed to say a word. The same went for personal property – what was House's was House's, and what was yours was also House's.

But Chase was allowed to sit in House's chair or lean against his desk with nary a word; he'd press up against House's back when he learned forward to look at a chart; he'd lean back against House when House leaned over him. He even caught Chase in an open exam room, playing House's DS, pink tongue sticking out of his mouth, while House watched told him what he was doing wrong.

And then came the day when Chase fiddled with House's marker. Foreman waited for the explosion when House came in, and it wasn't long in coming; House took one look at Chase's hands on that stupid blue marker and he was yanking Chase into his office and closing the blinds.

The smirk fell off his face when the music came on, though; loud, pulsing music that made the floor shake. It _could_ have been to cover up the yelling, but when they came out twenty minutes later, House was smirking and Chase's lips were suspiciously red.

He asked that afternoon, when the two of them were alone watching the patient get another MRI.

"So…" he began, and Chase looked at him, blue eyes wide and clear. "You and House? Seriously?"

Chase just gave him a mysterious little smirk – something he _must_ have picked up from House – and asked, "Why, you want to watch or something?"

Foreman didn't ask again after that, and he pretended not to notice when House let his hand linger on the back of Chase's neck, smirking at him over the blond head. Some things just weren't his business, anyway.

* * *

A/N: I am so, _so_ sorry it took so long - I kind of lost my love for House/Chase for awhile, but I have found it again! I hope you guys all liked this chapter. 


	5. Cuddy

_Cuddy_

It was Wilson who told her. Completely accidentally, of course; she'd gone into his office, demanding to know where House was because he'd missed all his clinic hours. Wilson had been on the phone with House, actually, and House had said something smart and then hung up, leaving Wilson stammering.

She'd demanded to know where House was, and he'd started to answer, "Well, he and Chase are –"

"_House and Chase_? Chase isn't here? Why is he with House? Wilson, if they're doing something illegal –"

"No, no! It's – they're –" But she'd noted the flush on his cheeks and honed in, and reluctantly confessed that the two of them were _seeing each other_ and had gone out for lunch.

She'd been so shocked she'd stumbled back to her office to think for awhile, and it wasn't so much that they were _guys_, it was that poor, brilliant, weak Chase was with _House_, who was bound to run him over in no time at all.

And, as Chase's boss's boss, she couldn't let that happen.

She'd thought briefly of confronting House, but that was a lost cause. All she'd get out of him were smirks and snark, and she'd end up flustered and annoyed and right back where she started.

So she'd cornered Chase, hustled him into her office, and questioned him for nearly an hour, trying to see if being with House was what _Chase _really wanted. That it wasn't just House being his usual self and taking advantage of the situation.

Chase had reacted quite fiercely to that. It took quite a lot to get the Aussie upset, but apparently she's done it – his normally serene blue eyes had gone stormy, and his mouth had tightened, and he'd told her, in a tone of voice she'd never heard before, that House was a lot of things, but a rapist wasn't one of them, and that it was _Chase _who had kissed House first, and _Chase_ who had gone home with House, and even if it hadn't happened like that, it wasn't any of her business.

She'd been shocked into silence, and Chase had been silent, too, and finally, she'd sighed and told him to go back to work. He'd left her office with his shoulders high and his stride sure, and she'd thought, _maybe House is actually good for him._

That didn't mean she wasn't going to watch, though. For a good two weeks, she'd watched them both, and been surprised by what she'd seen. There were no life-shattering changes in personality, really, no declarations in the middle of the hospital.

But she did notice that House was…not _nice_, because his sarcasm was still there in full force, but his insults and comments had a little less of an edge. It was, she realized, like Chase had surrounded House, softening his sharp edges, gentling him just the tiniest bit, so that not only was House easier for others to live with, it was easier for House to live with himself.

And, in return, something _inside_ Chase had changed. There was a confidence in him that hadn't been there before. It was in everything he did now: how he approached their cases, and his colleagues. His hands were surer on his patients, his voice gentler when he spoke with their families. How being with House, whose favorite pastime was cutting people to ribbons, had made Chase stronger, she couldn't figure it out, but he _was_.

So, really, there was nothing she could really complain about. With that in mind, she'd retreated back to her office and went back to work.

If she gave House a few more clinic hours a week – and made _sure _that it was _House_ who worked them – just to make sure he didn't forget to not to take advantage, no one could really blame her.

* * *

A/N: Thank you all you wonderful reviewers! I'm so happy you're enjoying it. The next POV (and probably last) will be Chase's, which is honestly kicking my ass at this point. I want to get it exactly right before I post it, because it's one of the more important pieces. 


	6. Chase

Chase hadn't planned it. He really, honestly hadn't; in fact, after the Vogler incident, he would have been surprised to end up keeping his_job_, let alone moving into House's apartment.

It had been a late-night assignment to run two blood cultures that had started it all; Cameron and Foreman had long since gone home, but he'd stayed, hoping to get in some more time in NICU. He both loved and hated working with the babies there; his heart broke anew every time one of those innocent little babies didn't make it, but there was nothing compared to the pure happiness of saving a child's life. A night's work in the NICU, making sure little ones stayed with their parents, never failed to give him a little hope as well.

He'd been at the microscopes, trying, as always, to see what House saw, know what House knew. House's mind absolutely fascinated him: sometimes he thought he knew how House thought, what he wanted, before House knew, but then House would pull something out of thin air that would leave him so confused.

The door had closed harshly behind him, and he'd jumped, flushing when he saw it was House. Normally, House would be smirking at him, eyes slightly narrow, voice low and hard.

But he wasn't. House's back was stiff, hands white on his cane, and his eyes were clear and bright, focused on Chase. He hadn't said a word.

"What?" Chase had finally mumbled reluctantly, waiting for the barb. There was none.

Instead, House had dropped his cane, limped forward, and kissed him.

Chase froze, and then let out a soft moan, and his mouth opened enough, apparently, for House to slip his tongue in, and things just progressed from there.

House wasn't about to have sex at the hospital – although Chase had a bad feeling he was working himself up to it – so Chase had gone home with House and…never really left.

House avoided having to talk about it by keeping Chase later than the others every night, and then telling Chase he could either ride with House or take the bus.

Taking the bus meant going home, riding with House meant House's apartment for another night.

He doesn't know exactly when he started bringing a change of clothes in his bag, or when his grocery list changed from things his apartment needed to things _House's_apartment needed, but he didn't really notice.

At least until, one Thursday he wasn't feeling well and went home early, he realized that his closet was almost empty and all of his comfortable pajamas were at House's.

So, Chase did the bravest thing he'd ever done: packed up what little he wanted to take that hadn't already made its way to House's – the furniture would be sold later – and showed up at House's doorstep, flush from a fever and flashing his best "Love Me" eyes.

Chase's stuff went in the back of House's closet, and that was that.

Chase was good at sliding into people's lives unobtrusively – growing up, if he wanted time with his father at all, he'd have to work around his father's schedule, his wants and needs. It was the same with his mother.

So when House's cupboards were empty, Chase shopped. The first few times, he paid for it himself, but then he started finding money tucked away on the counter, the same amount Chase spent every week on groceries, so he used it.

It was easy to work Wilson in, as well; Chase was a little shy around him at first, conscious of how big a presence Wilson was in House's life. The M&M incident had really broken the ice in the beginning, and after that it was easy to set an extra plate, add the extra set of sheets to the laundry, make an extra sandwich for lunch sometimes.

That was about the time the candy started showing up, he realized. Little stashes tucked away everywhere that never seemed to run out. Chase smiled, said nothing, and if he cuddled up to House while he munched sometimes House didn't make too big a deal out of it.

He always had fresh pens as well, and sometimes House would even be _nice_when he helped Chase with the crossword puzzles.

It figured that everyone found out on their own, since that was just the way Chase's life worked. Wilson was the first, of course, and they didn't even really bother to try and hide it; Chase kind of figured Wilson may even have gotten regular updates on their sex life anyway.

Cameron figured it out next. He wasn't sure _how_she did, since she was usually oblivious to things, but she must have noticed something. He could tell because of how tight her lips got whenever House got within two feet of him, how her hands clenched when House smirked at him, how her voice was hard when it hadn't been before.

Cameron knew, and she didn't like it.

It must have been her who told Foreman. Foreman probably would have never figured it out, because as long as Chase wasn't getting special treatment, he wouldn't have cared anyway. Chase didn't want to deal with any smart little comments though, so a quick offer to let Foreman watch made the man flush and refuse to speak of it ever again.

Surprisingly, Cuddy was the easiest to deal with, after Wilson. She was smart enough to pick and choose her battles, and she knew right away that trying to get House not to screw Chase on a regular basis would be pointless.

So she used it to her advantage instead – one wrong movie with Chase, and he'd pay for it at the hospital. It was fun, watching the two of them struggle over power, because it meant House went home hot and bothered a lot, and Chase had no complains about that.

Moving in with House wasn't what he expected it to be. He expected a lot of fights, a lot of nights of no talking, a lot of tense silences at work.

But Chase had always been good at sliding into empty spaces, and House had a Chase-size hole that he filled perfectly.

* * *

_A/N: I finished it, guys! What do you think? I'm so sorry it took so long, but I had to get this one exactly right, it was too important. I hope it was worth the wait, and every single one of you is so wonderful for reading and waiting so patiently._


End file.
